This morning was an early start. I like to get out of the city before rush hour ramps up.

Three sleepy people in a truck. Trailer hitched behind us. All headed west. In 1,529 miles we will be at Holden Village in the Washington Cascades for my fourth year running as part of the teaching staff.

My social media stream will be quiet for a couple weeks. There is a lot of community at Holden Village, but not much technology. I suspect those two things are related.

Karen and I just came from Epworth Heights in Michigan. And after Holden the fall schedule is filled with exhibits and programming in ten states. Every once in a while it feels like just a little too much. Then every once in a while I get a note like this and it all makes sense.

“I just wanted to thank you for bringing your exhibit and for the amazing presentation to Epworth. Everything about it was so well done. I found that in one of the panels a lady described an event very very similar to one I am currently going through, and have been for years.

Reading her story and seeing her strength and seeing that it turned out OK gave me hope and comfort in knowing I AM NOT ALONE. And that even though it feels as if what I’m going through is meaningless compared to all of the hurt, anguish and suffering in the world today, it was important enough for you to include as part of this amazing exhibit. It was as if my thoughts were written on that screen. My photo instead of hers.

For me your exhibit is able to give hope. I think every person there could find a story close to one they’ve lived. It brings it to a whole different meaning and feel. So I thank you.”

We live in an angry time. People feel isolated and alone. As much as we want to connect, sometimes it feels like we don’t have the tools to do so.

I see you. I hear you. You are not alone. Sometimes that’s all we need to say to give people hope.

Onward.